


in the architecture of the soul, the universe began

by sebbie



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 05:39:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16549970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebbie/pseuds/sebbie
Summary: Jemma realizes, now, just how much she needed Daisy. The matter didn’t seem up for debate, both she and Simmons agreed about it wholeheartedly. Fitz was gone, at least in this world, and it seemed commonsensical to need Daisy, therefore. There's a stab of guilt in her chest at the thought that Daisy might think that meant she was second choice because she wasn't. She was far from it. Jemma couldn't explain how or why but Daisy simply wasn't second choice—and, just like that, Jemma realizes, that she could not, would not live in a world without Daisy Johnson if she can help it.





	in the architecture of the soul, the universe began

There are “risks that must be taken to be in love, that is, to know at every moment not just that one loves, but also that one is beloved. Because this […] is a life-or-death situation, all of life’s intensity is focused into these instances. They may be the moments of our everyday banal existence, but they acquire the power of all that we have seen and known, all our myths and history, all our moral torment, all our spiritual and physical pleasures.”

From the Introduction to _The Book of Promethea_ by Hélène Cixous, written by Betsy Wing.

* * *

 

**I.**

They discover another monolith.

It’s as ancient as things like it usually were. Curiously, however, it was neither very malevolent nor very active. Nobody knows how to study this piece of rock. It tends to be very sporadic (and sometimes it really is just a rock rather than an alien artifact that happens to have some wacky side effects). Some people think it activates randomly, but in reality, it activates when it needs to. What does that mean? _It needs to_. It simply knows _when_ it needs to be. An omniscient rock that can do whatever it wants, whenever it wants, because it knows when it’s supposed to happen.

Nobody knows the monolith is omniscient, and when they find it, it’s just a piece of rock. Boring and lifeless. Something happened when Jemma Simmons touches the monolith. It wakes up, the ancient writing on carved onto its surfaces shines hotly and brightly, and then Jemma faints. 

Daisy Johnson, the agent standing closest to her at that moment, catches her.

The monolith brings Jemma’s consciousness to a world like her own. Similar to her universe as it was, the world was different in the most singular way that mattered: SHIELD never finds Skye, nor do they contact her at all. It is in this world that Jemma arrives, post the rise of Hydra and post the advent of the Inhumans. It is a world where Inhumans are oppressed and Skye is still Skye in the way that Jemma knows that matters: she never uncovers her past. Skye is a notorious hacker (alias Quake) who is, unsurprisingly, on the side of a rebel Inhuman group. Trying to unite their efforts in order to take Hydra down, what’s little that’s left of SHIELD is trying to look for her.

Thankfully, Jemma is still the brilliant mind that she is in this world, and SHIELD still recruits her. In this world, she learns that she’s relegated herself completely to desk duty, spending too long nights in the lab and not much else. She feels the difference in her bones, the way the tiredness seeps into her muscles. Loathe as she was to admit it, she missed the physical trainings she had with Daisy and the other agents. But Daisy’s not really here yet in this world and the Jemma of this universe has all but completely isolated herself from her fellow agents. Here is where she learns what is perhaps the most painful thing this strange new world has to offer: the Jemma Simmons of this world truly is similar to her in all the ways that matter, except that she has lost her best friend. 

To add insult to injury, Daisy is the pivotal key that led to his death. Not that she was the person who killed him, rather, it was her very absence that led to his death. Jemma sees the memories trying to seep into her own: running, running, trapped, Fitz trying to be a hero, a moment where Daisy is supposed to swoop in and save him but she’s not there to do so and Fitz is lost. Jemma is well and truly alone.

She feels the loss stemming from the memories, from the dormant consciousness of the other Jemma, as keenly as she can feel herself losing Fitz. This is the one universe, or maybe one of many, where neither she nor Fitz find their way back to each other; and all because SHIELD didn’t do their damned best in locating Skye in the first place. 

She realizes then—after the Fitz’s death, after seeing the state of SHIELD, after seeing the state of the entire _bloody_ world—just _how much_ they needed Daisy Johnson.

So she asks Coulson, practically begs him to get May (who in this universe is, unsurprisingly, the director) to let her join the search for Quake. The _hunt_ for Quake, who’s supposedly causing trouble for all humans (without distinction)— not that Coulson or May believed that wholeheartedly. (It’s a slander against Skye by Hydra, Jemma thinks, but May’s forced to take this into consideration so they’re “hunting” Skye too with hopes of “reforming” her and uniting their cause against Hydra. Whatever sounded good to the remaining agents who were very human and understanbly afraid of a person who could create earthquakes.)

Jemma’s guilty about having to lie about her adamance about joining because it only fuels the slander against Skye. Truth be told, the lie hurt more than Jemma thought it would—  _She’s the one who killed Fitz_. Is what she said.

It’s a lie. It’s a lie. It’s a lie. There is no way Skye would ever hurt anyone— and Jemma _knows_ who killed Fitz. A Hydra agent turned Inhuman. She saw it happen, at least in a way. What matters is that she knows. She knows that Skye is not a killer. She had some hope that the Skye of this world might become the same sort of person her universe’s Daisy Johnson was— brilliant, bright, and utterly fucking warm.

For once she’s glad that the Jemma of this universe decided to keep to herself after Fitz’s death instead of running into needless danger or letting herself waste away.

Alright, so, she lied and feels guilty about it. She’ll deal with that later. She needs to be on that team. When it comes down to it, she’ll protect Daisy—Skye. Her adamance convinces May and Coulson.  _You’re different, somehow._ That’s what they said. _There’s a certain fire in your eyes that haven’t been there for a long time_.

So, she sets off on another hunt to find Daisy (Skye, she reminds herself). Surprisingly, it’s not as difficult as it was when her Daisy went on the run (she really has to stop calling Daisy “hers” even if it’s to differentiate). Jemma’s unsure of what that meant. Was it her desperation that colored her search? Was it because she knew who Daisy Johnson was? Or rather than that familiarity that brooked this sense of an almost longing, was it because Jemma barely knew who this Skye was that it became easy to pursue her as a mere asset?

(Jemma never entertains the notion that something in the universe, in any and all of the different worlds out there, that maybe she too will always find her way back to Daisy, or that Daisy will always find her way to Jemma.)

The main point is—Jemma finds Skye. It happens almost by accident because Skye was supposed to have left the vicinity but returned because she left a shirt of all things (Jemma almost ran to hug Skye).

It takes Jemma a long time to get the girl to trust her (it involved accidentally being stuck in enemy territory for a few weeks). It was even harder to convince May and Coulson that Skye wasn’t the enemy—“We thought she was the Inhuman who killed Fitz. Wasn’t that why you wanted to join the hunt for her?” But, as before, she doesn’t back down in defending Skye. “No, she didn’t kill Fitz.” “Yes, I’m sure of it.” “I saw who killed Fitz.” “I’m sorry I lied, I didn’t know what else to do.”

Apparently, she could’ve just asked to be on the team.

So, of course, they asked her why she was so adamant about looking for a stranger who may or may not be a menace to society. Jemma doesn’t know how to tell them about the universe she’s from so instead she says— “I had a gut feeling that she was a genuinely good person and now I’m even more sure of that. She kept me safe, and I trust her! Look, if the debriefing didn’t convince you, at least consider how valuable an asset she’ll be!”

They form an easy sort of camaraderie that isn’t entirely different from the one they had in her own universe. The marked difference is that Fitz isn’t a part of the equation. There’s a sting whenever Jemma is confronted by this fact, but it’s overwhelmed by something else stirring in her gut. Jemma tries to ignore this world’s version of her but it’s rather impossible because she’s just as stubborn. This Jemma (Simmons, that’s what she’ll call her), it seems, was developing feelings for Skye and it’s opening a can of worms Jemma did not want to and was not prepared to deal with.

But Jemma loves Skye anyhow (she loves this version as much as her [universes’s] Daisy). Though maybe not quite the way Simmons did. It’s impossible not to love Skye, Jemma argues with herself and with her other self, once you’ve met her.

Here, Jemma realizes, the best she can do (or the most that she owed Skye) seeing as she was the only person who knew the woman’s past, was to lead Skye/Quake to Daisy Johnson. To give back to Skye the past that she never had a chance of confronting. Maybe this time, however, some pains can be lessened.

Jemma wonders, maybe selfishly, if doing this will somehow brighten Skye’s eyes. If it will somehow lessen the tremble in her voice or allow her to be more vulnerable. Will she open up more? Will she have that same, easy candor? Will she—

Jemma realizes, now, just how much she needed _Daisy_. (Her Daisy, she thinks belatedly.)

The matter didn’t seem up for debate, and both she and Simmons agreed wholeheartedly (Simmons agreeing for markedly different reasons). 

Fitz was gone, at least in this world, and it seemed commonsensical to need Daisy, therefore. This is what Jemma concluded and said conclusion sends a stab of guilt in her chest. The image of Daisy thinking she was a mere second choice did not sit well with Jemma. Daisy wasn’t her second choice, she was far from it. After all, in a world where Fitz existed, didn’t she need Daisy still?

Jemma was confused. She thought that maybe her time in this other world meant that her biases have changed. But maybe it didn’t. After all, didn’t the thought of losing Daisy terrify her at one point?

Jemma couldn't explain how or why but Daisy simply wasn't second choice. Daisy simply is a choice that Jemma could make if Daisy would have her. (Jemma rationalizes this line of thinking as having been influenced by Simmons. Skye is a choice that Simmons want to make. Let her choose as she pleases.)

Nevertheless, it is on that moment that Jemma realizes, that she  _would not_ live in a world without Daisy Johnson if. Not if she can help it.

(Later, when the team manages to find a way to pull her consciousness back to her universe, Jemma wonders which of them—her or the woman who lost Fitz—needed Daisy more.)

Days pass. Days turn into weeks, then months, then years. They defeat Hydra, they restore a semblance of balance to the world. The Inhumans are no longer as feared as they once were. Jemma has managed to get most of the team together. She managed to even find more people to join them (and she notes this for when she comes home to her world).

Jemma’s been in this universe for quite some time now (later, it comes to her knowledge that time flowed differently there from her own universe). She has managed to form bonds and relationships that she’ll definitely miss come the time she leaves. It didn’t pain her too much knowing that she’d be leaving all these people in good hands, however, (Simmons has been paying attention, it turns out). And they weren’t hers anyway. They all belonged to the Jemma Simmons of this world.

In fact, she could feel Simmons itching to jump back in and take the reins.

Sometimes when she dreams, she dreams of talking to herself (well, technically, this universe's version of ‘herself’). And other-her has a lot of comments indeed:

“Oh my god! Me and Fitz? Really? I mean, you and Fitz, but— wow. I mean, I suppose it's... something you'd expect but... wow.”

"When you get back to your world, give Fitz a kiss for me and tell him I miss him.”

"Wait, so, in your universe May and Coulson are also doing that pining thing? Wow. They're dense, aren't they?”

"Okay, you're telling me that in your universe, you've got a Daisy that you're not in love with? Can I have her too?”

”I don’t know about you but I definitely like her.”

"Okay, okay. Fine. You're not in love with her. I am. Okay, sure, you keep telling yourself that, doctor.”

"When you get back to your world, give Daisy Johnson a kiss for me and tell her I love her."

(Simmons is rather edgy, Jemma realizes. Definitely much cheekier and bolder than she ever thought herself capable of.)

Ironically, when she feels the tug of her universe calling out to her, her people calling her home, she nevertheless feels herself clinging to the bonds and memories that she’s made in this world. (“You want to stay because I’m right about Daisy,” teases Simmons one night. “Unfortunately, I’ve been dying for you to go away so I can finally snog her.”)

Jemma has always wanted to go back, and desperately so. She knew she had to. She knew this wasn’t her world and Simmons was right, she deserved to have her body back. And, most importantly, because Jemma knew there was a world out there where both Daisy and Fitz still lived and were waiting for her. She thinks of Fitz. It's Fitz whom she loves, not Daisy (at least not in the way Simmons loved Daisy). In that universe, Fitz was waiting for her. Fitz who loved her, who needed her as much as she needed him. Fitz. Fitz. Fitz. Fitz. Fitz.

(Daisy?)

Simmons’s mind and hers have become an amalgamation of sorts, each seeping into the other. It’s unsurprising considering she’s spent three years there.

When Jemma awakes, finally back in her home world, she finds herself wrapped in Fitz’s warmth. It takes her more than a moment to realize that this is what’s supposed to feel right (because she spent nearly over three years of having had Skye/Daisy being the person in his position in that other world). When she finally sinks into Fitz, she kisses him on the corner of his lips and tells him she misses him. 

After he lets go, she spots Daisy behind him. Standing there, almost as if on a precipice she can’t traverse. It disorients Jemma for a moment but she’s distracted by the way Daisy is looking at her—with her eyes wide with relief and her lips curled into a familiar grin. It’s only after she’s beckoned Daisy closer, and Daisy finally moves in to embrace her that Jemma finally feels home. She has to reorient herself again because drudges of memories of Simmons cling to her—people she saved there and lost here, people she lost there and save here, people she has yet to meet or have already met, and feelings of… of… of…

There is an ache in Jemma’s chest, a sudden need to go to Daisy and explode with all the words she has in her

then she realizes it isn’t Daisy to whom her heart belongs, from whose heart has been given to her. It was Fitz. It was Fitz. It was Fitz. Fitz. Fitz. Fitz. Always tireless and patient, Fitz. And she _loved_ him. She needs more time to adjust, she tells herself. She's been unconscious for two months, they tell her. Two months, and yet to her it was three years. It was three years of getting through life without Fitz's familiar presence, three years of loving Daisy Johnson more than she ought to, and three years of sharing the consciousness of someone inexplicably in love with Daisy.

She needs time to adjust.

She does.

But sometimes she finds herself thinking of that other Jemma, and was she taking care of her Daisy? Was that Daisy still weak against their infamous pout? And how they’d better be together, _still_ together, and happy because otherwise she’ll personally manhandle the monolith to send her back there so she can patch things up.

They were perfect for each other, gods. 

She remembers a promise she made to Simmons one day when she finds herself looking at Daisy, who in turn, was doing a great job at reassuring an Inhuman child they’d met ("I can see glimpses of other universes, when I touch certain things or people, but that's about it,” he says. “I thought I was crazy at first, but I've gotten pretty good at telling which is which. Nothing too special or interesting, really.”)

Jemma was sure Daisy was weaving her usual magic, and the kid should feel at ease, and right at home. Honestly, I t’s hard not to feel at home with Daisy around.

For a moment, she feels as though she’s gravitating towards Daisy. There’s an ache in her chest telling her here is where she belongs. Then, with a start, she realizes. It’s Simmons and Skye who are perfect for each other. Jemma’s not sure why the realization strikes her as surprising because— “Of course, it’s not us.”

A part of her becomes stricken with guilt because Fitz loves her and she does love him and…

But—

“Right Jemma?”

She snaps out of her reverie and finds both the kid and Daisy looking at her. (The child looks curious while Daisy’s grinning like a child. What sort of mayhem were they up to? Jemma wondered, and for a moment thought about that other universe again. In that universe, this image could be Simmons looking at Skye and _their_ kid. It makes Jemma wonder if she wants a child with Fitz the way she’s imagining Simmons and Skye with one.)

“Earth to Jemma?” This time, Daisy looks worried. It makes Jemma pass off her musings with a teasing grin, “I was listening, Agent Johnson.”

Daisy raises an eyebrow, she returns the look with the same challenging gaze, Daisy breaks into another grin. (This wordless banter felt familiar but not quite. Because this banter shouldn’t exist here. It should exist in the other world. Why does it feel like—)

“You two aren’t together, are you?” the Inhuman kid pipes in, yet again cutting through Jemma’s thoughts. Jemma's glad that Daisy turned to look at the kid because she was sure her cheeks were burning bright red.

"Maybe in another universe, kid" Daisy shrugs nonchalantly.

The kid nods, Jemma could practically hear the gears whirring in his head. She wonders if he caught a glimpse of **that** universe, or if the question was just a coincidence. (Was there, for some reason, a look that she and Daisy somehow shared that made them look like a couple—because that's ridiculous, in this universe anyway.)

 _When you get back to your world, give Daisy Johnson a kiss for me and tell her I love her._ (Better late than never, Jemma thought.)

Jemma delivers. She’s almost tempted to snog Daisy properly but that was inappropriate considering their audience and the fact that she had no right to do so anyway (and she’d never cheat on Fitz). She leans to kiss Daisy on the cheek (but like a cheeky rom-com, Daisy suddenly turns to her and their lips briefly come into contact). Jemma turns bright red and is only comforted by the fact that Daisy appeared even redder than she did.

“Are you sure you aren’t together?”

“No,” Jemma says, which was the wrong answer considering. But her mind was a jumbled mess, and really an accidentally touching of lips shouldn’t send her two PhDs screaming into the sunset.

Daisy answers the question with a bewildered almost awestruck whisper, “Told you, in another universe.”

Jemma reins in her embarrassment and smiles innocently, "We are together in another universe. I’ve been there," she says, knowing that Daisy’s fully aware of her universal travels. She pretends it's not satisfying to see the blush creeping intensifying on Daisy's cheeks, "And in that universe, I love her very much.”

(Jemma doesn’t realize how unfair this is.)

(Later on, much, much, much later on, the extent of the kid’s power will be revealed. He can see the heart’s desire manifested into a new universe all on its own. When he comes into contact with someone yearning for something untrue in their current universe, he would see the universe where it was true.)

(Nobody realizes this but the kid’s power is channeled similar to the monolith that brought Jemma to the other universe in the first place.)

**II.**

It is an undeniable fact to state that Jemma Simmons and Leopold Fitz are soulmates. I have done a study of this and I have discovered that their paths are almost always destined to intersect. Whether it is their presence in the life of the other or the absence of it, you can be sure that there will always be explosions of affecting the world that they live in. At a drop of a pin or the gentlest caressing breeze, there will always be ripples turned tidal waves. This is true for every iteration of their lifetimes. And likewise true for each and every one of the beautiful, convoluted, happy, tragic, brilliant versions of the universe.

Jemma and Leopold are soulmates, plain and simple. Inseparable and always beloved by the other. Even when they don't know it, their soul is always yearning for the other. This is, after all, what it means to be soulmates, yes? This yearning for the other whose configurations so befit mine. See, then, it is precisely for these reasons that it becomes unsurprising to know they are destined to fall in love with each other in many different lifetimes and across various timelines.

Nevertheless, there is another fact to face about soulmates. That is, they are rarely a one-to-one ratio. I understand how many tend to assume that the existence of soulmates or the phenomenon of having a soulmate is a one-to-one ratio. That it is a sort of certainty or assurance that you are meant to be with someone (that is to say, a  _certain_ and  _singular_ someone). This is not the case at all. In fact, across my studies, the only thing I can be sure of about soulmates is that there are some people or groups of people whose absence-existence in the life of their other(s) affects the world in some miniscule-to-drastic measures.

Falling in love and choosing to love your soulmate is less about destiny and more about capacity, although destiny does play a part. Soulmates who fall in love (or fall out of love) with each other happen to do so because they have chosen it. Know that Love is a matter of choice and it always has been. Love cannot be without the capacity to choose it.

Now that we know all these things, we must face a few facts: (1) that Leopold Fitz is not Jemma's only soulmate nor is Jemma Leopold's only one, and (2) that they will not always fall in love or stay in love with each other. 

 

**III.**

It happens after they bring everybody back from the Framework.

For Jemma, the nightmares never stopped coming. The anxiety of the unreal remained in her gut, ever-present and ever gnawing.The Framework and the LMDs rattled her to her very core in a way she never fully expected it would. They made her question reality in a way she never did when the memories of the other-universe clashed with her memories in this one. Perhaps it was because becoming that other Jemma Simmons was a far better and more pleasant experience.

Through all this, Jemma’s unsure of whether or not she ought to have been surprised that Daisy became her anchor to reality.

Every night she would leave their (hers and Fitz’s) room to go to Daisy’s.

The first time it happens, Daisy is clearly caught off guard. Even if she had instantly let Jemma in, and without question, Jemma recognized the internal debate happening behind Daisy’s eyes. She was only grateful that the other woman allowed her to stay.

Jemma lies to herself and says: Just a few nights. Just until I’m over this. Just until the nightmares don’t come as frequently. Just until—

But the nightmares only disappear when she’s with Daisy. And it’s not fair to Fitz who has nightmares of his own. They drift apart trying to deal with their nightmares on their own. Maybe she should’ve tried to deal with the nightmares with Fitz. Maybe she should’ve helped him get through his. Maybe she should’ve—

She builds a thousand and one reasons. None of which she believes. This downward spiral (before the eventual flight) has been an inevitable happenstance since she came back from her monolith-induced trans-universe travels.

One day, Daisy lets slip a— “Are you sleeping in our room tonight?”

Jemma doesn’t understand why (or she does but she just won’t admit it) but Daisy avoids her for three days. Jemma missed her terribly. On the third day the nightmare was so bad she had to dredged up all her courage to knock at Daisy’s door.

Her eyes were red, tears were still trailing silently down her cheeks. She sees Daisy crumble as she’s pulled into an embrace as warm and as steadying as any hug she’s ever experienced before. Even without asking, Daisy does her little trick and sends light tremors against Jemma’s skin, lets it seep into her bones without hurting her. It’s only strong enough that Jemma feels the certainty, the _realness_ of Daisy against her.

Daisy’s room has become her room as well and she doesn’t realize this until one night, she lets slip an: “I need to go back to Fitz’s room.”

She freezes. Daisy smiles at her sadly, almost ruefully.

“It’s okay, I understand.”

And she leaves. But in Jemma’s heart remains a pang. When she enters Fitz’s room, Fitz isn’t there and the bed was cold and altogether unfamiliar. Daisy was only some distance away yet Jemma missed her, yet again, so terribly.

Daisy becomes a familiar presence to Jemma. Much more familiar now than Fitz which was utterly surprising. They moved in sync sometimes, and do certain things automatically. Little things like, Daisy slipping her hand in Jemma’s and giving it a a comforting squeeze. Jemma reaching out for Daisy and giving her half a hug or leaning on her shoulder. Or both women knowing exactly how the other took their tea and/or coffee. Etc.

It’s Fitz who realizes, one day, that Daisy can tell when Jemma’s lost in her thoughts and having waking nightmares. She does it better than he can or ever tried to do. It hurt but it didn’t surprise him to see Jemma drift off to someone who could anchor her. Jemma chose Daisy. Fitz chose his work. They moved on from each other by choice, and partially by their own carelessness. But Fitz is okay with it, ultimately, because he loves Jemma still and Daisy like a sister. He doesn’t mind that they’re coming together like this. In fact, it seemed like a good thing.

“It’s okay if you love her, Jemma.” It was hard to say but he forced the words out. Fitz wanted to mean it and one day, he would.

And so, Fitz’s room became his. And Daisy’s became Jemma’s and hers.

Jemma is glad, Daisy even more so.

**IV.**

Some say reality exists only by virtue of how you measure it. And, so, Jemma measures it by the fierce tenderness of the soft lips pressed against her temple, by the hands stroking circles on her back, and by the hushed whispers of sweet nothings that Daisy murmurs against her hair.

Jemma defines her days by the soft tremors dancing against her skin, and the ones that Daisy sends down her spine even without using her powers. She defines her nights by the electricity that flows from Daisy’s skin to hers, that for a moment Jemma wonders if the other girl has acquired a new power. Jemma knowsthis is not a new power.

She knows, simply, that Daisy has become the new axis upon which she is turning in. Daisy is the gravity that keeps her grounded in orbit.

Jemma Simmons loved Daisy Johnson tenderly, and was beloved by her just as much.

**Author's Note:**

> I promised a soulmate AU of sorts to a friend and this is that promised fic (long ficlet?) albeit a bastardized version of it. I haven’t caught up with AOS and it has been way too long since I've watched an episode. I’ve also interacted with enough media that AOS is blurry as fuck in my brain so excuse the inconsistencies. I really just wanted an excuse to write this. 
> 
> The title comes from a song called Overture by Sleeping At Last.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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